[center][h2][color=gray][b]Barnabum Yericksford[/b][/color][/h2][/center]

“Yoooooooooo, dwarf. That’s a funny little beard you got there.” The pixie giggled, waving his hands in what could be misinterpreted as Treant sign language. He took another puff of the cigar, pupils crooked in opposite directions, as he stared dazedly out into the space port. Barnabum gingerly took the cigar from the pixie and took a puff, wheezing as the dry smoke entered his lungs and made him briefly retch for a second. 

Ah, this was the life. Hanging out and smoking mushrooms with pixie sailors. 

Unfortunately, pixie constitution’s didn’t quite hold him to gnomish constitutions. One of the pixie sailors didn’t take quite as well as his other compatriots, his head tilted upwards and walking around in circles repeatedly. 

“ All these stars make a salad. All these stars make a salad. All these stars make a salad. All these stars make a salad. All these stars make a salad.” 

Barnabum perked up at Dihala’s command and rubbed his hands together excitedly. Finally, they could get out of this blasted rock and finally set sail into the far outer reaches of this quadrant. He stood up, knees a little wobbly from chomping down 3 mushroom cigars, before replying back. 

“ Aight, c’ptain. I’ll just go downstairs and warm her up. Don’t want her dying of a stroke on her first voyage afér all.” 

The pixie who had been staring upwards suddenly shouted. 

“ BARNEY! I need you to tell me that I can have the rest of your cigars!” 

“ You can have the rest of my -” 

“SHUT UP, YOU’RE NOT MEH DAD!” 

The pixie then returned back to his routine. 

“ All these stars make a salad. All these stars make a salad. All these stars make a salad. All these stars make a salad. All these stars make a salad.” 

He might have given him a little too much dried shroom. Poor lad. He didn’t develop the taste for it yet. Barnabum gently picked up the pixie by the shoulders who was still muttering incessantly to himself and set him on top of a barrel full of pickled dloops. He then made his way again down towards the engine room. 

“ Come on, old girl. Don’t be temperamental with me.” The gnome murmured, finding the button, and resting his finger against it. He sucked in a breathe and pressed it. Nothing for a moment. Then, the old engine began to whirr to life. Barnabum wiped off the tang of grease off his hands, grinning, as he felt the Maiden’s heartbeat in the palm of his hand. 

Outside, the thrusters began to belch green smoke as the Wayward Maiden shuddered, the runic fields on her hull blinking with energy as arcane energy soared through conduits and reignited the sails, now shimmering with golden light.